If Not You
by Fragment19
Summary: Inspired by a couple of lines from a S4 episode (the one where Sister Julienne meets with Charles, her friend from the past), and although the lines are delivered in the same setting, the context is open to interpretation. Shulienne one-shot.


Who could I turn to, if not you? Who would console me, if not you?

You don't need me to console you: the words are in here and you know them in your heart as I do.

These were the words which she heard in her head: stark, and clear; quiet, but with nothing else. A clear head, focused, still, empty, but for those words. Measured, not rushed, repeating but not without pause. First, her low and measured, thoughtful, voice. Then the reply; lilting, melodic, sweetest sound to her ears.

Who could I turn to, if not you? Who would console me, if not you?

A test. She asked these words, after so many years, to find out, at last, if what she thought to be true was indeed so. She thought, felt, that it was so. But did that go both ways?

You don't need me to console you. Also a test. Hesitantly, obediently: reacting, without thinking. The answer which was to be expected, not the answer which was sought, nor the answer which she wanted to give. And almost, almost, without hope, because wasn't this what she had always wanted? And how could that be, really; how could it be that this was happening, now, after all these years of wishing? But there was hope, a tiny light: this, the final test. You don't need me to console you. Do you? Is it really meant? Do you, really, want me as I want you?

She turned, in her bed. And even though she, she, had uttered these words, though they had come from her lips, head, heart, she could hear in them so many different possibilities. And she heard them, clear and ringing in her head: they had been alone, in the chapel. They were alone, now, in her head. And it felt as if there was all the time in the world to savour those words, their meanings, the potential each word held, and each response, in every incarnation. Test. Plea. Love.

Who could I turn to, if not you? Who would console me, if not you?

A plea. Who. Who? Who in this world would do this for me? Uncertainty. Unworthy. Not the same, as the Sisters. Not the same, as others. Not wanting the same. Unwanted. Do not reject me, not you.

You don't need me to console you. Strength. I see the strength in you. You are my strength. You are the starlight. You are the light in my life. You don't need me: I am weak, what can I do? I will be there, though. I will be yours. Am, yours.

How many times had they been alone, together, through the years? More than she had ever counted, ever knew to count. Many, many times, before she noticed that her face warmed and her eyes shone, her smile natural and care-free, when they were near. Before she noticed that the dearest sight in the world was her simple, understated knot of honey-coloured hair at the nape of her neck as she bent over to administer, with such kindness, to patients. That she yearned for the gentle touch of her smooth, warm hands, grasping her own, worn, dry and rough. Before she noticed that they were alone, together, when others were around them.

She listened to the words again, slow, measured. Fresh. Cold water on a hot day. Sunlight through a clear window, lighting dust. There was power, in those words.

Who could I turn to, if not you? Who would console me, if not you?

Not a test. Not a plea. A letter; a letter of love. A declaration. Telling, after all this time, that it is so, it is true. Who could I turn to, if not you? Who would console me, if not you? This is us, has been us, will be us, is us. You are mine: I turn to you and you to me. Who would I ask, if not you? It is you, and always has been you.

You don't need me to console you: the words are in here and you know them in your heart as I do. You don't need me to console you: your heart must sing as my heart sings. You know in your heart as I do: we know, and our hearts know, and we can be, us.

"Who could I turn to, if not you? Who would console me, if not you?"

A question; with more love than she had ever expressed and yet asked with simplicity, with tenderness.

She had lifted her head, then. Looked up from where she sat. Their eyes met, warm, with instant tears springing to their corners and smiles, unbidden, uncontrollable. She stood, and moved forward. Their arms reached for each other but they stopped, still apart, hands encircling each other's backs and forearms overlapping. This way, they could both look at the other's face; dearest, best-known.

"You don't need me to console you: the words are in here – " she touched, lightly, her own breast – "and you know them in your heart as I do", reaching, then, to put her fingertips to the warm, beating heart of the woman who embraced her.

Who, if not you?


End file.
